


and the snakes start to sing

by SerenNoir



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Choking, F/M, Femdom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenNoir/pseuds/SerenNoir
Summary: Set in the transport ride with Mare during Maven's coronation tour. A different take on the scene where she aggressively lunged at him.
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Maven Calore
Comments: 4
Kudos: 191





	and the snakes start to sing

**Author's Note:**

> This is not an example of a healthy relationship or even a healthy dom/sub relationship. I wanted to write for Red Queen--especially some angsty, psychological-horror between these two. Thanks Nanowrimo for spurring me forward in the name of word counts!
> 
> The beginning in italics is taken straight from the book by Victoria Aveyard. I think she sets up the scene quite nicely so I didn't alter it.

_“Whatever avenue is best for population control--” _

_If not for the manacles, my rage would certainly turn the transport into a heap of electrified scrap. Instead, I jump forward, lunging, hands stretched out to grab him by the collar. My fingers worm beneath the lapels of his jacket and I seize fabric in both fists. Without thinking, I shove, pushing, smashing him back into his seat. He flinches, a hand’s breadth from my face, breathing hard. He’s just as surprised as I am. No easy thing. I immediately go numb with shock, unable to move, paralyzed by fear. He stares up at me, eye to eye, lashes dark and long. I’m so close to him I can see his pupils dilate. I wish I could disappear. I wish I were on the other side of the world. Slowly, steadily, his hands find mine. They tighten on my wrists, feeling manacle and bone. Then he pries my fists from his chest. I let him move me, too terrified for anything else. My skin crawls at his touch, even beneath gloves. I attacked him. Maven. The king. One word, one tap on the window, and a Sentinel will rip out my spine. Or he could kill me himself. Burn me alive._

* * *

“Sit down. Now.”

His voice is commanding and leaves little room for argument. I scramble to sit on the bench behind me and watch Maven breathe hard and heavy. I clench my eyes shut tight waiting my fate. Not expecting a swift end but hoping for it nonetheless.

The quiet is crushing – almost as heavy as Cameron’s silence. The rustle of leather sounds in the transport and I open my eyes to see Maven removing his gloves. He stretches and clenches his fingers oddly in his lap. I can almost visualize fire licking at his fingertips, ready to incinerate me right here on the spot. I glance up at the thick glass window separating myself from Maven and the other occupants of the transport. If they’ve heard what is happening, they pretend not to. Not that they would even lift a finger to help me.

“I am not going to hurt you, so you can stop looking like a victim. You and I both know you wouldn’t wear that well.”

As much as Maven lies, his voice belies a strange sort of quality. He almost sounds like the thoughtful, quiet boy I first met. He continues to stare unnervingly, his blue eyes cutting into me from across the small enclosure.

“Do you want to hurt me, Mare?”

I stare back at him, brow drawn in confusion. Hurt him? I want to slaughter him. Render his flesh from bone for all the grief and anger he has brought me. And yet…

Maven leans back against the seat. “Here, I’ll let you. I owe it to you. Eye for an eye, as they say.” He spreads his thighs confidently and beckons me to him.

I don’t move. Not at first.

He sees my hesitance and trepidation and commands in a louder voice, “I said here.”

“I’m not your dog--” is halfway out of my mouth before he surges forward and hauls me to him by both arms.

“If you were my dog, I would have had you whipped by now.” He smiles sardonically, as if his joke didn’t bite through to the bone. The reality of how easily he could have that accomplished has my breath catching in my throat.

I sit in his lap, straddling either of his thighs. It is the closest I’ve ever been to Maven. It’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t make my skin crawl like before. My body heats in embarrassment rivaling his own natural heat that seems to hang as an ever-present aura around him. He leans his head back against the seat again, staring up at me with intense blue eyes. I try my best to look everywhere but his face, unsure and fearful of what kind of head game he is playing.

I shrug my shoulders to get him to release his hold on my arms, but he slides down instead to wrap long, lithe fingers around my wrists. He brings my hands up to his collar again. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath my palms. Maven carefully manipulates my fingers to wrap around his neck. He does this as easily as he manipulates every other aspect of my life.

“Go on now. Hurt me,” he whispers.

We’re close enough that I can taste the honeyed tea that he sipped on before we left House Welle. Our proximity steals my own breath from my chest. His heady, intense gaze and our inappropriate position on the bench causes me to shiver in his grasp. He feels such and smirks knowingly. “Get on with it, woman.”

His fingers press against my own and I instinctively tighten around his neck. His flesh yields easily beneath my hands. So soft. So fragile. How easily to snuff out this life that has caused me such heartache. I grip harder, clenching my back teeth. He makes a small noise of approval that I can feel vibrate beneath my thumbs. A smile begins to spread slowly across the lower half of his face. Almost as if he is in bliss…

I bring back my hands like his skin is molten lava. Before I can retreat too far, his firm grip guides me back.

“W-what are you doing? What is this?” My eyes search his looking for answers. Why does he want me to choke him? What kind of sick head game is he playing at?

“Continue,” he replies simply and settles more comfortably on the bench. My weight shifts with his, my knees sliding forward until they touch the back of the seat. The heat shared between us is stifling. He presses against my fingers with his own impatiently until I resume the pressure I had earlier. Although this is the strangest game Maven has played with me yet, it feels good to believe that I could possibly squeeze until the life leaves his eyes if I wanted. Unlikely though. He may not be as large as Cal, but Maven is stout in his own right and stronger than me by far.

“Does that feel good? Hurting me?” he murmurs, face mere inches from my own. His dark lashes are lidded, and the blue behind them is the darkest I’ve ever seen them.

I tighten my grip in response. Maven’s sharp intake of air chokes in his chest, and he shudders violently. His hands drop from mine to land lightly at my waist. His touch burns me through the layers and heavy coat I wear.

“Maven--”

He stares at me for a heartbeat longer before he fluidly leans forward and slides his top lip between both of mine. His kiss is gentle much like the last time he kissed me in his dining room. This time the sensation is much different, however. Before I felt disgust. This time it causes my lips to tingle and spark to the point where I almost imagine my powers have returned to me. He increases the pressure of his kiss, and then recedes to a feather-light whisper against my mouth. The two extremes heightens my senses. I shift in his lap, my thighs beginning to quake. He squeezes my waist sharply in response to my movements. I still and in doing so, my grip loosens on his neck again.

His eyes snap open where they had been closed before. He huffs – impatient – and drags me forward. Now there is absolutely no room between our bodies. My hands alight on his chest, fluttering little birds that now that they are not trying to crush and maim are unsure of how to be. He angles his hips forward so that my core drags sharply against his firm thigh. I inhale sharply and bite the inside of my cheek to stop the strangled groan from escaping. Although there are thick layers between us and I did not actually feel the action against my skin, it still reacts to the very blatant invitation that Maven is setting out.

A short growl leaves my throat. “What the hell are you doing?” The spell of his is broken, and now I’m angry. His head games once again succeeded into dragging me in.

“You stop what you’re doing, I stop what I’m doing,” he explains.

His blasé response incites my anger further and I quickly wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing warningly. I might just say to hell with it all and try to actually choke him out. He’ll kill me long before he passes out, but it would make me feel better.

“Do you want this?” The question comes out of left field. His face is open, searching. He looks younger in that moment—the Maven that was fearful of walking in Cal’s shadow now afraid of rejection. My rejection. It’s an expression that I know is not forced, not a lie, not this time. In a fucked up way, Maven does actually love me. Deep down, he does want to know how this affects me.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” I admit harshly. I’m frustrated. I’m confused. He offered me a chance to hurt him possibly without repercussions, but the sick, twisted soul that Maven has is enjoying this.

“You’re simply getting your retribution for the torment I’ve put you through.”

“You’re still tormenting me!” I curse, shaking him slightly so that his head rolls. “You’re still playing with my head.”

He smirks, glowing in my wrath. I shrug out of my heavy coat, feeling overheated and claustrophobic. Beads of sweat drip slide between my shoulder-blades. Maven’s heat is overwhelming.

“You have the upper hand here, Mare.” His hands remain wrapped at my waist. “Now I’m giving you the choice, but if you continue to dawdle, you’re going to lose what little ground you’ve gained.” His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hips. It throws more fuel on the embers of the fire building low in my gut.

I lunge forward, wrapping tightly around his throat. I squeeze as tight as I possibly can and capture his mouth with my own. My kiss is just as harsh as the breath that escapes Maven, sharp and staccato-like. He groans heavily beneath my mouth, and I use the opportunity to slip my tongue between his lips and taste the honeyed tea that I took note of earlier. I don’t tentatively sneak and retreat like Maven had done, but I take. I swallow his groans down as he makes them, growing intoxicated on the headiness of his mouth and the yielding tendons beneath my fingers. I break for air and loosen my grip.

Maven sucks in air like a drowning man, guttural, animal. A high flush rides up his pale neck, but moreso there are clear darkened marks in the shape of my fingers. Maven drags me against him again, eyes glazed over, and this time I feel the evidence of his own need on my inner thigh.

“You know what I want?” I ask boldly. “I want to keep hurting you. I want to _undo_ you.”

His breath hitches and he pushes me from his lap suddenly so that I’m flat on my back on the seat. He hovers above me, strong arms trapping me in on either side of my head. “You already have,” he admits in a quiet, tortured whisper. He raises up, quickly divesting himself of his long cape and the royal vest beneath. “I want you to keep undoing me. P-please...just,” he pleads.

He tugs at the hem of my top, fingertips seeking and grazing against bare flesh. I pause for a heartbeat. Is this what is happening? It was very clear what was about to take place if I allowed this to continue. This would just further the impossible spiderweb that Maven and I were entangled in. The temptation of Maven losing composure and completely unraveling was too great, however. I want this more than I realized. I want to be responsible for Maven’s complete dissection. My pussy clenches in anticipation.

When my fingers move to pull my top over my head, Maven helps me with deft fingers that blaze a fiery trail wherever they land. Soon, I am down to my simple underwear and he is hovering completely nude above me. His cock juts between his legs, of average length but of greater girth than his brother. I berate myself internally for thinking of Cal in that moment.

I push Maven to lie flat underneath me. If he said I was in control, then that’s where I would be. For however long as he allows me. Part of me wonders if he is biding his time until he takes it back; the other part of me can’t wait to wrap my hands around his pretty little throat again. I lower my body until I’m sitting on his stomach. His warmth swells up to envelope me and I feel his cock flex beneath my ass.

He watches me quietly, but there is an unspoken impatience in his body language. For starters, his hips twitch back and forth as I rest my full weight on his most vulnerable body part. I turn my wrists until I have either side of the manacle chain in my grasp.

“I’m waiting. We don’t have all day.” He almost sounds bored, and this incenses me.

I press the chain against his throat, pushing the cool metal into his trachea with increasing pressure. At the same time, I slide my hips forward and rut against his cock slowly. He sighs heavily, eyes slipping closed in pleasure. His heat cuts through the thin fabric of my underwear and it doesn’t take long before I feel myself soaked in my own need. Surely he can feel it too by how he groans louder and digs his fingers into my waist.

“You know the best way to tame a monster?” I state conversationally through pants, watching the skin surrounding the manacle chain blanch and redden over time. Maven slits his eyes, looking up at me with bated breath.

“You name it. Isn’t that right, _Maven_?” I finish, sliding my hips in a harder thrust. The resounding groan is enough to solidify how much I want this. I can’t wait to destroy this man. To take back what power I have over him.

I feel his fingers between my thighs and I twitch in expectation, slowing my hips so he can push the seat of my underwear aside and slide heated fingers through my wet labia. Sparks ignite as he brushes roughly against my clit, circles, and then pushes the tips of his fingers into my pussy without warning. I moan heavily, dropping my head to punish his mouth in another bruising kiss. His long fingers sink further and crook in such a way that has me fucking down with increasing tempo. Even if this is all wrong, it feels too damn good to stop now. I nip at his bottom lip until he is almost hyperventilating beneath me. His cocks nudges against my inner thigh, the head already damp with the pleasure he’s feeling.

His skilled fingers leave my cunt in one fluid motion that leaves me clenching with need on empty air. He steadies his cock beneath me and I slow to line myself up. I know he probably wants this hard and fast. Rough. But he told me to hurt him. Undo him, he says. That’s now how it’s going to happen.

Slowly, _excruciatingly_ slow, I lower my body down. I feel the exquisite stretch and pressure that leaves me gasping. I enforce the pressure of the chain against his neck to warn him not to ruin this. He’s not in control here. He pants, staring at me from under hooded lids. His blue eyes are piercing. The hottest of flames are blue.

His cock feels like silken steel inside of me, and I pause for a moment to allow myself time to adjust to the new sensation. “Our safe word is “Fuck you,” I continue, sliding up until the angry-red head is just barely gripped between my lips. Without warning, I drop down forcefully.

Maven chokes beneath me, neck stretched and thrown back. It’s a striking sight to witness this beautiful, sinful monster deconstruct. I pick up a steady rhythm, not enough force to get a decent momentum going from him, but plenty for me to control the depth and speed of how I fuck down on him. I nip and lick at this exposed jaw and throat, feeling the pulse thread under my lips. His skin begins to taste like copper from the chain pressed up against it. Little curses spill from his mouth – a dirty, filthy narrative that tricks him into thinking he’s the one with the upper hand here. As if I haven’t grown accustomed to the rhetoric that flows from his lips these days.

“Get me off,” I demand. He complies immediately, hips stuttering as I slow our rhythm. His hand moves between our bodies until he’s hovered over my clit. I’m about to curse him for teasing, when I feel a soft heat emanating from his fingertips. “Do not burn me.” My voice wavers with the appearance of his powers.

“I won’t Mare. Just don’t stop. Please.”

My stomach clenches with Maven’s change in demeanor. If I push it back, it’s almost possible to imagine I’m having sex with the Maven from before. The Maven I became close with and ultimately fell for. His fingers don’t move to touch me, but the heat increases in intensity. There is no pain, but rather an increasing pressure behind my clit that spreads out and deeper into my pussy. It is like nothing I’ve felt before. I continue to ride Maven’s cock, feeling the heat throughout my entire body. I gasp through the sensation, relishing the sweet tingling building up that signals my release.

His other hand moves to my lower back and presses down. It changes the angle of my thrusts. I moan loudly when his cock slides against the spot inside of me that whites out my vision. I feel my orgasm roll in on undulating waves. Heat and tingling shoots through my entire lower body, and it feels like I am ablaze in delicious, blue-flame fire. Maven surges up to kiss me, open-mouthed and messy, wet tongue sliding to tangle with my own. His hands tangle in my hair while he ravages my mouth and I jerk and twitch through the aftershocks of my orgasm.

He pulls back when he feels the press of the manacle chain against his neck. A satisfied smirk paints his face, and I simultaneously want to kiss or claw it off. The wetness between my thighs makes the tempo easier now and it doesn’t take long until Maven is groaning and cursing again beneath me. His hands trap me in place, fucking me down hard on his cock. Shallow pants escape from his plush, bitten lips and I can tell he is close. I push with the chain as hard as I can, having a vague idea of how much he can take. In this state, it would be too easy to take it past his limit. Actually kill him. The thought makes me feel sick.

My thighs burn with effort it takes to keep the punishing speed that Maven has set us at, but the tinge of purple beneath his eyes and lips spur me forward. His sweet blue eyes roll back in his head – from pleasure or lack of oxygen, I can’t tell. With one last stuttered thrust from his hips, he pulls me down to grind sharply against his pelvis. His muted groan alerts me to his orgasm ripping through him, and I feel hot cum leak from where our bodies are joined. I jerk the manacles off his throat and he gasps weakly, coughing and sucking in air harshly.

Without warning, he pulls me down to his chest and wraps his long arms around my back. He is far too hot and I too sweaty for this to be comfortable, but I allow him this small measure of comfort. It is easy to pretend we are somewhere else, someone else, in a different situation where he is not who he is, and I am not what I’ve become. He drops kisses to the top of my head, and I feel hot tears gather. Intimacy with Maven, no matter how bittersweet, won’t change the fact that I am still his prisoner.

I will the emotions away so that by the time I raise up to look at him, I am stone-faced again. His expression is one of open-faced awe and contemplation and it turns my stomach. I smoothly get up and start slipping back into my clothes. The evidence of our coupling slides thickly down the inside of my thigh. He follows me, silent. In my peripheral I see him sneak glances my way. In just a few moments, Maven is dressed, hair smoothed, and mask slid back into place of the cruel boy-king that I know so well.

By the time we reach Rocasta, we are presentable. Maven’s high collar hides the dark bruises that are beginning to crop up on his neck. Later, he will likely get a skin healer to wave them away. An eye for an eye he said. When we step out of the transport into the knee-deep snow, his hand surreptitiously guides my lower back.

I forget that humans have two eyes, and it looks like Maven is intending on cashing in on both.


End file.
